


Big As the Ocean, And Equally Hard to Control

by calico_fiction



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Biting, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fighting, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Making Love, Making Up, Marking, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Supernatural Elements, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22611964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calico_fiction/pseuds/calico_fiction
Summary: Of course you can be happy without being with your soulmate, and Ryan doesn't judge different kinds of relationships, he just thinks that your soulmate is like the pinnacle of what you can achieve, romantically."You sound like a Nicholas Sparks movie," Shane tells him, because Shane doesn't believe in soulmates.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej/Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 219





	1. Save Your Predictions

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Closer Than This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304256) by [sequence_fairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy). 



> This work was inspired by Kaya's [tumblr post](https://kaya4114.tumblr.com/post/185371136445/soulmate-au) and by sequence_fairy's [Closer Than This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304256) (also inspired by Kaya's post). I hadn't seen a soulmark AU premise quite like this one before. In Closer Than This, Shane is a skeptic because he's been hurt in the past. I wanted to explore doubt as a positive experience instead, in otherwise the same context. I also changed the mark locations, for plot reasons.
> 
> Title and chapter titles from Pearl Jam's [Dance Of The Clairvoyants](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Y1q37A7ecFEdR5IAMWodA?si=j_eS_fRfR2iom4l2AvNbWw).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated E. Porn begins at "C'mere" and ends at "Get off, gotta go pee" and contains no plot relevant details if you want to skip it.

Ryan seems a little jittery when he settles in at their desk on set to film this next episode of Unsolved. He taps the bottom of his folder on the desk between his hands and blows a breath out between loose lips. Shane is intrigued. The last time Ryan was this nervous before filming off location it was the alien abduction episode. Obviously, Shane thought that whole deal was absolutely ridiculous, but the banter was especially juicy that day because of it. He folds himself down into the chair next to Ryan eagerly. Ryan gives him a semi-suspicious glare out of the corner of his eye while they wait for setup to finish, and Shane grins back cheekily just to make Ryan huff. They get the count down from TJ, and Ryan sits up straighter.

"Today on Unsolved: Supernatural," he introduces on cue. "We discuss soulmarks as part of our ongoing investigation into the question 'Is the Paranormal real?'" Shane almost laughs this time as he shakes his head at the camera. He never knows ahead of time about the subjects of the episodes to keep his reactions as genuine as possible. He gets why Ryan is so jumpy now though. For most people, soulmarks are a pretty touchy subject. Ryan makes his way with determination through his notes, citing pseudo-scientific research, testimonials, and ancient writings. He summarizes; light brown for inert, yellow when you meet, green when you become friends, red when you're in love. There's a lot of 'we've all heard' this and 'everyone knows' that, but Shane patiently waits it out. "So, do y-"

"Nope," Shane interrupts the question with relish, popping his p to be obnoxious. Ryan glares at him, pressing his lips tightly together so that he doesn't ruin his stern look by laughing.

"You didn't even let me finish," he complains. "How could you not believe in soulmates?"

"I mean, it's not supernatural," Shane explains. He leans back in his seat with a shrug, and takes a negligent sip of his coffee. "It's some kind of biological thing, obviously. It's chemical or something, hormonal. It has nothing to do with love."

"Hormonal," Ryan repeats, making his voice deliberately flat. "Do you even believe in love?"

"Of course I do!" Shane says. He doesn't take offense at the question; he knows it's part of the bit. "I just don't think it's magic."

"I can't believe you," Ryan continues. "You're all about things you can see, but here you are-"

"Yes, Ryan," Shane agrees, in an affected tone of condescension. He leans forward again for emphasis. "I can _see_ that humans are born with weird birthmarks that change color throughout their life, sometimes in conjunction with another human that they happen to spend a majority of time with. Like- It's like, you know," he gestures, somewhat awkwardly, "when ladies' periods sync up."

"Like whe- Are you seriously comparing soulmarks to periods?" Ryan demands incredulously, his voice pitching up.

"Menstruation can be a beautiful thing, Ryan," Shane says sagely, and smirks at Ryan's outraged scoff. Ryan looks into the camera, shaking his head and smiling a smile that is half grimace. Success.

"As if that's even-" Ryan mutters, and then switches track. "What about your parents?" Shane raises his eyebrows at Ryan now, a little miffed at last. He knows exactly what Ryan means here, but he asks anyway. It's always rubbed him the wrong way when people assume.

"What about 'em?"

"I mean, they're soulmates, right, so-" Ryan says, thinking he's got a good _gotcha_ going.

"They aren't, actually," Shane corrects mildly. Ryan catches his breath in surprise.

"They aren't?" Ryan gestures awkwardly at Shane, indicating his existence. "But..." Shane lets out a shallow laugh. This is always annoying at best.

"It's not a prerequisite to having babies," he points out.

"No, you're right," Ryan stutters out quickly. "That- Sorry, that- Yeah, fair point." He looks away and shuffles his notes again, uncomfortable. But Shane knows how this goes. It goes the same every time. He knows Ryan has another question, and he knows what it is, and he knows to wait for it or he'll just have to deal with it later. Ryan chews on it for a few long moments that they'll probably have to cut, and then finally spits out, "How long have they been together?"

"Ol' Mark and Sherry Madej?" Shane asks, as if he has any other parents. "Forty-one years, baby! Two kids and a dog in midwestern suburbia." That usually puts people who go on about family values or whatever on the back foot, and Shane himself has considered it the most compelling evidence out there for his whole life. Soulmates aren't necessary, aren't relevant, aren't real. Love just is, and either it lasts or it doesn't, and that's that.

"And!" Shane adds, a little abruptly, a little belligerently. He leans back again, far enough that his chair creaks ominously. He ignores it and tucks his hands up behind his head, raising his eyebrows at the camera like a dare. "Sara and I have been together for almost three years now, and we're not a match either. We live together, we've got a cat. You know, we're compatible, and we love each other, and we make each other happy. They're just marks, there's nothing else to it."

"They're not _just_ -" Ryan's eyebrows are up too, but in incredulity. He's practically radiating ire, and Shane's own annoyance is washed away easily by smugness. It's fun to rile Ryan up - and Ryan has never judged or dismissed Shane's and Sara's relationship so it's easy to let it go, with him. "Okay, how do you explain the colors, then, smartass?"

"I don't know," Shane admits simply. "It's some vestigial adaptation or something. We haven't made scientific advancements to understand it because we're satisfied with the soulmates assumption-"

"Now who's the conspiracy theorist," Ryan snips. Shane shrugs, unconcerned with the lighthearted accusation. Ryan shakes his head again. "No, they change color because they're a- a physical manifestation of the soul-" Shane snorts rudely.

"Science can't even definitively show that the soul _exists_ ," he argues.

"I'd say the _soul_ mark is pretty definitive!"

"Just because we named it that doesn't mean that's what it is. Look at the mantis shrimp."

"The mantis shrimp," Ryan repeats. "I hate your guts." Shane barks out a laugh.

"And another thing!" Shane says once he's caught his breath. He's on a roll. "What about, like, you know, aromantic people. Or! Polyamory. You know, just two to a pair is not how everyone does it, so." He points into the camera. Take that.

"Well- I don't know, maybe, uh, maybe it doesn't have to be romantic, I guess, if- I don't know." Ryan looks away again, back to his notes, the closed folder on the desk in front of him, awkward.

"You're right, Ryan, you don't know. You can't know, nobody can. There are no consistent rules. It's baloney." Shane takes another calm sip of his coffee, watching Ryan stumble around curiously. He thinks about bringing up how Ryan didn't address the polyamory point, but he seems extra cagey now at the mention of unconventional relationships, so Shane leaves it be.

"Whatever, you- Of course you can be happy without being with your soulmate, and I don't- I don't judge different kinds of relationships, I just think that your soulmate is, like, the pinnacle of what you can achieve, romantically," Ryan finally concludes, facing directly into the camera again. "And, like. I don't know, it's just a nice idea, that you can see the progress of your relationship like that."

"You sound like a Nicholas Sparks movie," Shane tells the side of his face, and Ryan laughs.

"That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me," he lies, eyes shining with mirth. Shane thinks the risky material will pay off. It feels like a good episode.

It goes up pretty early in the season, one of their first Post Mortems. Ryan sits down at the table on the Post Mortem set with the same nervousness as he had before filming the episode. Shane settles in delicately next to him. The comments on the episode were... a little heated at times. Needless to say, they certainly will not be doing a Roast Mortem this episode.

"I'll be real," Ryan says on a sigh after doing the intro, looking down at his phone to pick the first question. "A lot of you guys's comments this round were, um, kind of mean, or inappropriate-"

"Or both!" Shane interjects cheerfully.

"-so, uh, it was slim pickings this time, you know-"

"My feelings were genuinely hurt," Shane adds, semi-honestly. Most of it didn't bother him, except some particularly uppity comments about his parents. The views and likes to dislikes ratio tell a nicer story though, as Shane had been expecting.

"-so the episode might be a little short-"

"More time for the Daga!" Shane says gleefully, with a manic grin.

"-God help us," Ryan finishes, wheezing. "Just remember, you guys did this to yourselves." They work their way through the few answerable questions they scrounged up, drawing out their responses a little to fill up the time (there isn't actually going to be extra Hot Daga content, just the usual). At last they make it to the final comment.

"This one is from, uh," Ryan double checks it, "Twitter. @boomara asks: Do you guys check your marks regularly? Do you know what color they are right now?" He pauses and glances over at Shane. "Um, it's kind of toeing the line, I guess, but- I mean, if you- You don't have to answer, but I'm comfortable just saying the color."

"Alright," Shane says with a shrug. He literally could not care less. "Go for it."

"Uh," Ryan says, and then devolves into a short babble. "It's full green, and kind of weird looking like that, actually, against my skin tone, but I guess it probably looks like that on everyone." He's definitely embarrassed, and Shane wonders briefly if he'll change his mind and have this cut out later. But then he looks over at Shane, baldly curious, and Shane brushes the thought away.

"Yeah, I have no idea," Shane tells the camera, loud after Ryan's mumbling. "I don't check it at all. That one will remain..." He trails off and meets Ryan's stare with an expectant look of his own. Ryan glares and shakes his head, but Shane doesn't give up. He waggles his eyebrows, like that would be even remotely tempting. But it does make Ryan wheeze, and roll his eyes.

"Fine," he groans, and then sits up straight and stares into the camera to do his Voice. "The mystery of Shane Madej's soulmark color will remain... Unsolved."

"And that's a wrap!" Shane declares with a clap. "Now on to the good stuff." He tugs his laptop forward, warmed all over when Ryan groans again and lets his head fall forward onto the table with an audible thunk.

Ryan and Shane help tear down the set, like they always do, when filming is done. Some of the tertiary crew seem a little awkward. You're not supposed to know anything about someone's mark unless you're family or sleeping with them, according to current social mores. It's like seeing them naked. Shane has always been the kind of guy to take or leave niceties though, and besides that this isn't the first time he's known such a juicy detail about Ryan, especially not now that they've shared a dozen hotel rooms and demon house floors. It's not even the first time Ryan has told him something about his mark. Ryan had told Shane when his had turned yellow, and Shane had said 'That's nice' and moved right along with his day. To be fair, at the time they'd only known each other for a few weeks and the only non work related conversation they'd had previously was about how Chipotle was the superior big chain burrito. They're friends now, though, and this stuff is a big deal to Ryan, so Shane figures this time he should attempt to show some interest.

"So, green, huh?" he tries, when the equipment is all put away and he and Ryan are heading back to the open plan offices alone together. Ryan glances at him, but when he doesn't find any ridicule on Shane's face he nods. "You gonna ask 'em out soon? Since that means, allegedly, that you're getting closer." Shane asks that part carefully, double checking back over his tone afterwards to make sure he doesn't sound jealous. It's a silly little crush, The Ryan Thing, as he and Sara call it when Sara wants to tease him about it. It's a low, steadily simmering thing; something that seems to have always been there, and at this point probably always will be. Sometimes that's just how things are. Ryan snorts, rolls his eyes, takes a step ahead of Shane to hold the door to their floor open for him, oblivious.

"'Allegedly,'" he echoes, snide but with good humor, as always. He doesn't elaborate beyond that, all the way back to their side-by-side desks, and Shane thinks he won't answer. No biggie, he showed his interest and he's sure Ryan got the real point of Shane's asking. It's nearly ten minutes later when Ryan finally adds, "I don't. Um. I actually don't know who it is." It takes Shane off guard. He watches Ryan's face for a second before responding. Ryan looks like he's braced for a thorough ribbing, and only half cool with it. Shane shrugs uncomfortably, glad that their computers are just far enough apart that Shane wouldn't be able to reach over and pat Ryan on the shoulder and so isn't obligated to try that.

"That's rough, buddy," he says. Ryan's expression clears up and his mouth goes crooked with wry amusement.

"Oh thanks, Prince Zuko," he grumbles. "Your sympathy is just overwhelming." Shane shrugs again, less uncomfortable, self deprecating just for the fun of it. Ryan huffs and turns to his work, smiling.

All the soulmark talk makes Shane curious, though. He wasn't lying when he answered that he doesn't know what color his is, that he doesn't keep track. He can't even remember the last time he looked at it on purpose, took note of it. It's along the curve of his left pec - or at least it would be if he had pecs - far enough to the side that it's almost in his armpit and it looks, ironically, a little bit like a ghost. At home, as he and Sara are getting ready for bed that night, Shane lifts his arm in the mirror and turns to the side to look. His little ghostie is bright green. Ryan was right, the color does look really weird surrounded by peachy skin, and the contrast is probably even sharper on Ryan's golden brown. Shane looks a little closer and makes a thoughtful noise. Along the fluttery-looking bottom edge, the green is bleeding into a murky brown color.

"You checking out the future Mr or Mrs Madej?" Sara jokes lightly from behind him. He drops his arm and turns to watch her take out her space buns, letting her purple hair spring free. "Should I be jealous?" Shane gives her a don't-be-ridiculous look and she laughs happily before making grabby hands at him. Of course, he could never resist her, wouldn't even try, and he walks over and leans into her space for a kiss. She rubs the tips of their noses together when they break apart and Shane gets the same butterflies in his stomach that he did when they were new and she shot him some flirtatiously horrendous pun (the same butterflies that he sometimes still gets now when she shoots him some flirtatiously horrendous pun).

"I saw the episode," Sara continues, moving her mouth down to breathe against Shane's neck and make him shiver. "You sounded real sweet on me." Shane laughs and pushes gently at her shoulder until she lays back on the bed and he can more comfortably loom over her. She smiles up at him, stars in her beautiful eyes, and he knows he's looking at her just the same.

"I am real sweet on you," he confirms, putting on his cowboy accent. Sara laughs at him so hard that she chokes on it, and he can't help but giggle back at the way her face scrunches up and she wiggles around like a happy puppy. She squirms her way all the way up to the headboard and Shane crawls up after her, keeping close.

"C'mere," Sara says, even though Shane hasn't gotten any farther away. She loops her arm around the back of his neck and pulls him in, and he settles in on his elbows to kiss her again, to press her into the mattress with his weight over her much smaller body. She lifts her leg and hooks it on his hip. He helps, sweeping his hand up underneath her oversized sleep shirt (one of his old shirts, probably, but there's no point in keeping track anymore) and tugging it along to bare her lower body to their bedroom, to him. The heel of her foot is insistent against his ass through the thin material of his boxer briefs. He reluctantly leaves the warmth of her mouth to pull her shirt the rest of the way off. He drops it on the pillow on his side of the bed, because he knows she'll want it again right away when they're done.

Sara stretches out under Shane in the dim yellow light of her bedside lamp, hedonistic and comfortable and perfect. He has to pause, take a moment to breathe, just to look at her, naked in his bed, and marvel again at how he gets to have her. Her, and her little breasts with their rosy pink nipples, her mark nestled right in between them, light brown like the freckle on her ribs, her milky thighs. He's caught in between twin desires for a moment - to kiss her lips and slide his tongue alongside hers in the wet heat of her mouth, or to tuck himself between her legs and lick into her folds instead. Sara smirks like she knows what he's thinking, and bends her knee to the side so that both of her legs frame Shane now, and that answers that.

Shane sinks down, sliding his arms underneath Sara's thighs and along her sides. He breathes deeply at the crease of her thigh, letting his eyes flutter shut at the scent of her, peppering kisses and licks over her lightly furred mound on his way to her center. She sighs above him and curls one hand into his hair, grounding them both. The first taste of her is a revelation, like it is every time. The burst of tangy slipperiness over his tongue as he presses it warm and firm against her hood makes him hum in pleasure. She always gets so wet so fast for him and it feels so good to get her there like this. He presses his tongue there, again and again, not quite licking, teasing her, getting her wetter, until she whines and tugs on his hair. He smiles against her but ducks lower like she wants, pointing his tongue and licking inside her. The sharp point of his long nose keeps up the stimulation on her clit. Her scent completely surrounds him now, her wetness all over the entire bottom half of his face. He eats her out like that until she's whining again, both fists curled into his hair and yanking. He comes up for air, breathless and shaking with arousal, but laughing.

Sara keeps one hand in Shane's hair even as she slips the other one unceremoniously beneath his waistband to get it around his dick. He laughs again, half moan this time, and falls into her, wet face and all. She licks his cheek, making him moan again, and then manhandles him into a kiss. She tries to get his underwear off with one hand and a foot, which doesn't work out great, so Shane has to pull back from her again to tug them off and toss them. He'll probably want them when they're done too, but he's too preoccupied now to think about things like _after_ anymore. As soon as its free from its terrible confinement, Sara wraps her hand around Shane's cock again and pulls him closer by it. He wraps his long arms around her, lifting her slight form up into his chest, and lets her put him where she wants him.

Shane groans brokenly and latches on to Sara's neck when she finally gets him inside. She makes a high pitched little gasp and digs her head back into the pillow, simultaneously giving him more room and pushing herself up into him. She wraps both legs around his waist, both arms around his shoulders, when she's ready. He rolls his hips, hardly pulling out at all at first, the way she likes it to start. But she's close already from all that time he spent going down on her. She pulls him back from her neck by his hair and bites him just behind his ear to urge him faster. He's helpless, as always, not to give her what she needs. He cups one hand around her ass and lifts her into a better angle, and fucks her.

Eventually, Sara claws marks across Shane's shoulders. She cries out and shouts his name, and he whimpers hers back, and their sweat and their hair both mix all together. Sara comes first, her legs squeezing his hips so hard he can feel her bones. He's not far after her, shuddering to completion before she's even finished. They lay there in a panting heap for a little while, Shane's chin still slick against Sara's shoulder and Sara's ankles draped over the back of Shane's knees. Then Sara slaps his chest.

"Get off, gotta go pee," she says. Shane wheezes out a breathless laugh and rolls over onto his side of the bed. He tugs Sara's sleep shirt out from under his head and hands it to her as she clambers off the bed. She throws it on over her head as she leaves the room, Shane watching her butt as she goes. He wipes his mouth on the back of his arm but hasn't otherwise moved an inch by the time Sara comes back from the bathroom.

"If you don't go brush again you're gonna wake up with pussy breath," she reminds him as she pulls the covers back and gets into bed. Shane grunts. He can think of worse things. "Stale pussy breath," Sara corrects, and Shane concedes the point with a sideways nod. He pulls himself off of the bed with effort, makes a cursory glance around for his underwear, and shrugs when he doesn't immediately find them. He washes his face and brushes his teeth quickly, and then pulls a fresh pair of underwear from his drawers to sleep in. He snaps the waistband against his hips to make Sara laugh, and then crawls in beside her. Sara clicks off the lamp and snuggles in close to him, closer and closer until he has to noisily blow a curl out of his face.

But thoughts about his dumb soulmark creep up on him again before Shane can fall asleep. He lifts his arm again, keeping the other wrapped around Sara, and contorts it to brush his fingers against where he knows the mark is in the dark.

"It's green," Sara says, her tone open, confirming that she noticed and inviting him to talk about it if he wants to.

"Yeah," he says with a sigh. He pulls her closer. "So's Ryan's," he adds without meaning to. She waits, and he's grateful for her patience while he chews on his next thought. "Probably no connection there." It's really more question than statement, though. He feels her shrug against him.

"Does it matter?" she asks, not unkindly. Shane shrugs too. Sara places a chaste kiss in the hollow of his throat and lets him think about it. He thinks about it for a long time, and he can tell that Sara hasn't gone to sleep yet, waiting for him.

"It would kind of matter," he decides finally, carefully. "If it was because of Ryan." Sara hums a thoughtful noise.

"Okay," she murmurs into the dark, falling closer into sleep now that Shane doesn't need her attention anymore. "So we'll talk about Ryan, then. In the morning." Shane is both relieved and anxious about that answer. But he kisses Sara on the forehead and lets himself forget about the whole idea, until the morning.


	2. Doors Open Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated T.

"So," Sara says in the morning, the first words either of them have spoken yet. Shane has only just sat down with his coffee. He considers crawling back into bed and claiming that it's not morning yet. "The Ryan Thing." Shane makes a small noise of protest, but then takes a fortifying gulp of coffee and sighs.

"I guess it's not so silly or little anymore," he admits, somewhat grudgingly. Sara snorts indelicately like _oh you think?_ but otherwise waits for him to continue, buttering toaster waffles cheerfully like they're discussing the funny pages or the weather. Shane sighs again, tangled up. He feels lucky all over again that he fell in love with Sara and that she loves him back. He can't even imagine having this conversation with anyone else. He sets his coffee down on the table between them, rotates the mug idly between his hands, staring down into it as he tries to put his feelings into thoughts and his thoughts into words.

"I want him," Shane says finally. It's such a tiny statement compared to what he feels - the joy that he gets from being around Ryan, the sense of accomplishment that comes just from making him smile, the certainty that they could do anything together and enjoy it, how bereft he is when Ryan isn't around, how covetous he is of Ryan's time and admiration, how utterly captivating Shane finds him - but he can't find any other way to put it. Sara hums her understanding and takes a too-big bite of waffle, watching him attentively as she chews, reading him easily, knowing there's more he hasn't worked through yet. It's a good thing it's Saturday and they don't have anywhere to be.

"The soulmate thing," Shane says, and then stops again. He takes a sip of coffee just to stall, even though he doesn't really need to, not with her. "I don't- It's not a front or whatever, I really don't-"

"I know, babe," Sara interrupts gently, putting him out of his misery. They'd talked about this extensively when they got together, and again when they started getting serious. Shane had wanted to make sure that Sara wouldn't drop him for some stranger she happened to meet around the same time her mark turned yellow, and he'd also wanted to make sure she wasn't expecting him to change his tune either. She knows he means it when he says he doesn't believe in soulmates, just like he knows she does believe in them but isn't interested in letting fate make her choices.

"Right." Shane nods awkwardly and shoots Sara a grateful look from beneath his lashes. She smiles encouragingly, and he can't help but smile back. "But Ryan... He really believes in that stuff, and he really wants it, and he wants it to be just like it is in the movies. I don't want to... If he thinks it's me, I don't want him to say yes just because of that. Even if we're synced or whatever." He waves a hand, frustrated with how limited these words are.

"Like ladies' periods?" Sara jokes, lightening up the mood a little. Shane huffs a laugh.

"Exactly like," he agrees. "So anyway!" he adds brightly, trying to steer them away from this uncomfortable and complicated stuff. "You don't have anything to worry about, either way." Sara hums again and gives him a look that he considers to be quite cryptic. She begins spreading jam onto her second waffle, and it's Shane's turn to wait her out - although he's much less patient than she is. He's on the edge of his seat, figuratively speaking.

"What if you could have both of us?" Sara finally asks, deceptively casual. Shane blinks.

"But..." he says. "I can't?"

"You could," Sara answers, knowing a question phrased as a statement when she hears it. "You mentioned it yourself in the episode. Not everyone works in pairs." She's right of course, and Shane probably shouldn't be so taken aback. It's just one of those things, he supposes, that you keep in mind for other people but never think to apply to yourself. He takes a moment to apply it now, to really consider what it might be like to be in a relationship with both Sara and Ryan. It's easy to slap a Best Case Scenario label on that reflexively, so Shane forces himself to slow it down and work it through piece by piece.

"Still the soulmate thing, for me," he decides finally, with a soft kind of grief. And then, almost as an afterthought, "Is- I mean, do you want him too?" Sara shrugs.

"I want you to be as happy as you possibly can be," she says. "And Ryan is one of my best friends, and I want him to be happy too. And if I can be part of what makes you happy, both of you, then that's the best outcome." She smiles at him again. "I'm not worried, Shane." Shane feels himself melt into the mildly comfortable kitchen chair with relief. He knew, logically, that he and Sara were secure enough to handle him having weird overflowing feelings, but it's another thing to really, really _know_ it. Shane almost feels light-headed with the release of tension, half giddy. He reaches over the table and steals one of Sara's waffles. She stabs at his hand with her unused fork, deliberately too slow to catch him, and he giggles. They eat together in comfortable silence for a few moments before Sara speaks again.

"Are you interested in that kind of thing?" she asks. The only reason it's not startlingly abrupt is how delicate her tone is. "If it's not Ryan, I mean. Just, like, in general."

"Wh- As in...?" Shane had been thinking wistfully about going back to bed again, vaguely tired from the emotional exercise, and he's slow to catch back up.

"As in us dating, like, as a couple," Sara explains. Her voice is a little breathless, and she gestures a little, blushes. She's flustered. "Or having an open relationship, or... whatever."

"Oh," says Shane blankly. Again, despite them being on the topic, he hadn't thought to consider any of that. He takes a moment to think about it, but forgets to put his words in order this time. "I don't really want... I mean, if you have someone that you want us to I'd, yeah, but- But you can! If you want to just- I don't really, uh, date? And I can't promise I won't ever get jealous, but I think- Uh, yeah. You can. Sure." Sara watches him struggle through that mess, and then laughs at him. Shane tries to glare but he can't maintain a sour look when the sound of her laughter is so sweet.

"Okay," she says when she's managed to wind down and catch her breath. "Let me know if I have anything mistranslated." Shane gestures for her to continue. "You're not interested in dating casually and you're not currently seriously interested in anyone else but Ryan." Shane nods. "You're open to trying to co-date someone I'm serious about, like you are about Ryan." He nods. "And you're comfortable with me casually dating other people separately from you as long as you're still my favorite." Shane laughs, and nods again.

"Got it in one, baby!" Shane confirms. He goes back to his coffee and she to her waffles, and that, as they say, is that.

Having a semi-open relationship becomes their new normal quicker and more easily than Shane would have expected, had he imagined what it might take to get used to. Sara learns all the polyam terminology, reinstalls Tinder on her phone, deletes it again because it - apparently - sucks, and finds some other dating app that she likes better that Shane can never remember the name of. She shows profiles to Shane and explains why she's interested before agreeing to go out with anyone, and Shane finds to his surprise that he's actually not that jealous at all and only vaguely interested. Sara gets treated to dinner or a movie or a walk on the pier, gets showered in gifts and kisses, and then comes home to him. They shift their own date mode into things Sara doesn't get from the other people she sees; spa nights at home and day trips and long intimate tours of museums, all things that Shane happens to like better anyway. Shane begins to forget that they ever worked any differently.

Unfortunately that also means that Shane forgets that this is a so-called "unconventional" arrangement. He forgets that there's any reason to be discreet about it, forgets that it's not something anyone else would be able to assume about them, that outsiders wouldn't know unless told, and that once told they would have questions and possible judgments. He and Sara are already considered "unconventional" just because their marks aren't the same shape or color, and Shane has never really been afraid of judgement for that just because he's so used to it from how much of it his parents have always gotten. But despite how seamlessly Shane has fallen into it, this is something new and still sensitive.

It's Shane's own carelessness that earns him his first scrape.

It's a Friday a few months down the line, past the end of the weekend workday for most people, almost their whole floor cleared out already with only a half dozen other people still clicking away aside from Shane and Ryan. Sara had stopped by a couple hours ago to kiss Shane on her way out. She's meeting someone whose name Shane has already forgotten at a pop up carnival tonight, and Shane expects her home around midnight smelling of popcorn and holding a teddy bear more than half her size. Shane has very juicy plans to use that time to watch a documentary on the secret language of medieval textiles which he has been saving up for just such an occasion. He is, in fact, looking forward to it at this very moment, instead of wrapping up the pitch he's writing.

"Hey," Ryan says from beside him, logging out with a flourish. "You and Sara wanna check out that new taco place near your guys' house with me tonight?"

"Nah," Shane answers thoughtlessly, internally debating if he should just close up shop too. "Sara's got a date tonight." Ryan gives him a teasing grin.

"You mean _you_ have a date tonight?" he corrects with a laugh. And Shane. Shane's still not fully engaged, here. He's still thinking about medieval textiles, and his pitch, and the show that'll come from it if he gets it approved, and his new Snuggie that is waiting for him at home, and the craft beer in the fridge, and now also about tacos.

"What? No," he mutters, finally committing to closing out his tabs. "I'm not interested in him." There's a long, long silence and it's not until after Shane's computer lets out a satisfied _ding_ at being shut down properly that Shane realizes what has happened and freezes with his finger hovering over the monitor's off button.

"Oh, uh," Ryan stutters. Shane breathes in deep, closes his eyes briefly, and then presses the button and swivels his chair to face Ryan and Ryan's oncoming questions. "She's, uh. She's seeing other people?" Ryan's voice pitches up more than necessary at the end, but Shane appreciates the attempt to be normal about the whole thing.

"Yeah," Shane says. "She has been for a little while now. It's going good." He doesn't shrug or do anything else that might be taken as overcompensation, knowing how that usually goes from all the various times he's mentioned how he doesn't believe in soulmates and been needlessly pitied for it. Ryan nods, and Shane nods, and Ryan nods again, and Shane stops nodding and waits somewhat impatiently for Ryan to ask whatever else it is that's clearly on his mind. Shane himself wouldn't really have any other questions, can't even think what else Ryan needs to know, but Ryan is both endlessly curious and easy to read. But Ryan doesn't add anything else, so Shane sighs and takes the initiative himself.

"We decided to partially open our relationship," he explains. He doesn't have the vocab that Sara has, but he doubts Ryan does either so whatever. "We can do casual dating separately, or seriously date people together. I'm not into dating, though, so mostly just Sara does that and if she, you know, catches feelings for someone she'll bring them to me and we'll go from there."

"Oh, uh," Ryan repeats. "I see. Gotcha." There's another pregnant pause, but Shane is a little hungry and eager for his documentary so he doesn't wait long this time. He claps his hands on his knees and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair as he stands.

"Okay," he says. "Good talk, buddy. Rain check for us on the tacos." He barely makes it three steps, only one arm in his jacket, when Ryan manages to blurt out his final question.

"Is it because you're not soulmates?" Shane freezes again, and this time he feels his jaw clench. "I mean," Ryan stumbles, "like, are you guys looking for yours or...?" Shane grinds his teeth and doesn't answer and Ryan starts to pick up on his bad vibes. "Or, uh, like-"

"Best not to keep digging," Shane cuts him off. His voice is as cold and flat as a frozen pond. He can't remember the last time he was this upset with Ryan, is almost surprised by it himself. But until now Ryan has been one of the few people in Shane's life that had never, ever pressured him to look for his soulmate and had never acted like he and Sara were doomed to be short term or, or, _incomplete_. "Of course it's not because we're not soulmates. We love each other very much and we're- we're good enough. We don't need to look for better."

"No, I didn't mean-" Ryan tries, but Shane is too pissed off to let him backtrack.

"We happen to be polyamorous," he snaps. "And if you have a problem with that you can kiss both of our asses about it." He's not exactly proud of the way he storms off, without even bothering to get his jacket the rest of the way on, the way he slams the door into the hallway closed behind him. It's maybe not the most mature thing to do but it is oh _so_ satisfying, at the time. He rides his cloud of anger all the way home, and the only reason he doesn't give his own front door the same treatment is because that would scare Obi shitless. He stomps his way into the kitchen to make literally anything but tacos for dinner.

He tries to watch his documentary but can't get into it, his conversation with Ryan - and the guilty-cum-hurt look on Ryan's face when Shane told him to kiss his ass - buzzing around in his head like a needled swarm of bees. Instead he shuts off the TV and sits alone, stewing, waiting for Sara to get home from her date. She comes in exactly as Shane had expected, quarter til tomorrow with a glittery ghost painted on her cheek and a stuffed unicorn. Shane scowls at her until her smile drops and the pleased flush fades from across her nose. He knows he's acting like a damn toddler who missed nap time, but the knowledge only makes him worse.

"I'm jealous this time," Shane growls over his folded arms and the back of the couch.

"I- Sorry?" Sara says. She's still standing in the doorway, like Shane is making her feel unwelcome in her own house, where she lives, over something they both agreed was okay, over something that _is_ okay. He's being a grade-A fucking asshole because he feels bad. He groans dramatically and throws himself backwards onto the couch.

"I'm being a grade-A fucking asshole because I feel bad," he says, out loud. "I'm not even actually jealous," he adds, not bothering to correct his tone so that it doesn't sound like a bold faced lie. "I'm happy for you and- uh, G-Greg...?"

"George," Sara corrects coolly.

" _George_." Shane says the name with venom that it doesn't deserve, recklessly and willfully ignoring the warning in Sara's voice.

"Okay," Sara says tightly. She drops her unicorn behind the couch like she's making the effort to keep it out of Shane's sight, and then comes around to the front to look down at him with her hands on her hips. "What the fuck is your problem?" Shane looks up at her. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's in the wrong here, so he clenches his teeth together until they hurt rather than let himself make a mean face at her ghost facepaint, which _of course_ reminds him of Ryan. He has to look away to be able to speak.

"I had a fight with Ryan," he mutters, and immediately feels even worse for his behavior because it sounds so fucking juvenile.

"Well, I'm not Ryan," Sara snaps. "And neither is George. You dick."

"I know," Shane forces out, like pulling his own teeth even though he really means it. "I'm sorry." They stay there in tense silence for a while, before Sara sighs. She shifts her arms from her hips to crossed over her chest. The body language is clear there and Shane instantly feels the urge to apologize again, so he does.

"Sorry."

"I heard you," Sara says, and Shane takes that as the best he's gonna get, and not unfairly so. She sighs again, shifts her weight. "Do you want me to stop seeing people?"

"No." Shane sighs too. He covers his face with a hand. "No, it's- You're fine, really, it's good. It's- This is good. I just got my stupid feelings hurt and then sat here pouting all night, and I- I guess I was... I don't know. I'm sorry. Really."

"Okay, Shane-" Sara cuts herself off to take a deep breath, consciously cooling herself down in a way that Shane was being too self-centered a moment ago to do. Her arms fall away from her chest and Shane watches from the corner of his eye as her fists clench at her sides, shake for a second, and then release. "For this to work you have to _tell me_ when you feel neglected."

"I said I didn't-" Shane grumbles, peevish about the perceived implication that he lied but having worn himself out too much on his tantrum to get really worked up again.

"You did!" Sara cuts him off. Her voice is raised, which it almost never is, and Shane's mouth clicks shut. "You were hurting and you needed me and I was out with someone else, and instead of calling me or texting me about it you just let it fester and then took it out on me!" Well, when she puts it that way...

"Okay," Shane agrees meekly. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Sara repeats. She takes another deep breath, and then nudges at Shane's head so that she can sit. Hesitantly, he lays his head in her lap, only fully relaxing when she starts to pet his hair. "Do you wanna talk about what happened with Ryan?" Shane doesn't really, worried that he'll get angry again and too upset and tired to deal with feeling like that again so soon. But he thinks maybe he has to get it out.

"He knows we're... open," he starts, haltingly, and then continues on quickly, "I didn't mean to tell him, it just slipped out. He thought it was about us not being soulmates." Sara makes a sympathetic noise. Shane feels his eyes getting hot, a combination of emotional exhaustion and real sadness. "I knew he was- that he believed, but I didn't know he thought that we... That _I_..." He doesn't have the words for how it had felt like Ryan was dismissing the value of Shane's love, and his throat is starting to hurt anyway so maybe he wouldn't be able to say them right if he did. Sara keeps petting his hair and he closes his eyes and just breathes. She does smell like popcorn. It's nice.

"I'm sure that's not what he meant," she says quietly, eventually. "But I understand how much it must have hurt to hear, especially from someone you have feelings for." Shane just nods. He rolls onto his side so that he can hide his face in Sara's sweater.

"I didn't even get to watch my documentary," he whines. Sara laughs, and Shane feels released by it, just enough to not feel like crying anymore. "Dunno what I'd do without you," he mumbles, his breath warming his own nose.

"Die of a severe and violent obstruction of the feelings, probably," Sara jokes. Shane almost laughs. They stay there cuddling quietly until well past midnight. Then they take a shower together so that Shane can help Sara rinse off the popcorn smell before it goes stale. He kisses her all over and she kisses him back everywhere she can reach, and the last vestiges of their fight go down the drain along with the glitter from the facepaint.

The fight with Ryan is not so easily washed clean.

Shane does his best to avoid Ryan on Monday, even though it's nigh impossible since they sit right next to each other and head projects almost exclusively together. Shane tucks his noise cancelling headphones on over his ears as soon as he sits down at his desk and stares straight ahead into his screen. He can feel Ryan's eyes on the side of his face, and even though he made sure not to catch a glimpse he can picture Ryan's expression perfectly. That serious, mature, kicked puppy look that only Ryan can really pull off. Despite his self-imposed blinders, Shane doesn't get much done. Every ten minutes or so he gets the urge to forgive Ryan and has to convince himself not to. He knows it can't be that simple, and pretending would only be unfair to both of them. But Shane doesn't know how to explain to Ryan why he's so upset, and he's scared to find out what Ryan really meant by what he said (terrified, in fact, to maybe find out that he meant exactly what it sounded like).

Shane avoids Ryan for three days straight and Ryan, uncharacteristically, lets him do it. On Thursday, Ryan brings Shane a coffee, crowds into Shane's space to set it next to his keyboard, and waits. Shane stares at the paper cup with its cardboard cozy for much longer than it requires, and then finally, reluctantly, glances up at Ryan over his shoulder. Ryan looks grim but determined. Brave. Shane swallows hard.

"Thanks," he says, knocking one headphone back off of his ear. Ryan gives him a tight nod.

"Happy to," he says, earnest.

On Friday Ryan brings him coffee again and Shane starts to feel bad. He can't let Ryan keep grovelling when Shane is avoiding him more out of fear than anger. He has to buck up, soon. But tonight, Sara and Shane are having a make-up date. They're going to drink wine and dance in their living room to feel-good pop and paint each other's nails, and the only boys they're going to talk about are of the rich and famous variety.

Shane gets a little bit drunk on Moscato d'Asti and ends up waxing poetic about Sara's hair, and also Adrian Grenier. Sara paints his nails a sparkly midnight blue, and he paints hers neon orange. They do a very sloppy waltz in their sock feet until Obi complains that they're moving around too much and sends them to their room. In bed, they trade massages and Shane is captivated by the look of his painted nails against Sara's skin. They make love and fall asleep still tangled up in each other.

On Sunday Shane refuses to do anything, because it's Sunday and Sundays are for doing nothing. He insists on them having breakfast in bed and Sara indulges him with a knowing look that he pretends not to have noticed.

On Monday Shane chickens out. Sara knows the second he gets home and shakes her finger at him.

" _Shane_ ," she scolds.

"I know, I know!" Shane says, taking down pots and pans to stress cook some fancy bullshit that he doesn't actually know how to make and will have to call his mom about when he inevitably fucks it up. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

It takes Shane all day Tuesday to work up to it, sipping guiltily from the coffee Ryan brought him, but finally, at the last minute, Shane slips his headphones down around his neck and turns to face Ryan. Ryan turns away from what he's doing to regard Shane seriously without a trace of hesitation and Shane feels like a dick.

"So," he says. "Tacos?" Ryan nods and packs up. They leave together in silence, heavy but miraculously not too awkward. Ryan drives them to the new taco place near Shane's and Sara's house. They order, and eat, and then they don't know which of them should talk first. Finally, Ryan breaks.

"Look," he blurts out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, like, imply that you and Sara aren't a real couple or however that came out. You guys don't care about soulmates and that's totally-"

"If you say 'valid' I'm gonna leave," Shane says, but he doesn't mean it. It's just to make Ryan loosen up, maybe laugh, and Ryan does. Just a little one, but it's there, and it makes Shane feel better already. "I know you didn't mean it," Shane admits. "But it's really good to hear you say so."

"Cool," Ryan sighs, relieved. "I don't want to- It really sucked knowing that I..." He trails off, cheeks a little pink, and glares down into his empty taco basket, no doubt wishing he had something to do with his hands, a legitimate reason to avoid eye contact. "You know. Hurt your feelings."

"You did," Shane agrees. He shrugs, his own hands rubbing uncomfortably up and down his thighs. "But that happens. And you're forgiven."

"Cool," Ryan says again. And then, to Shane's surprise, he gives Shane a playful look. "So, it's still going good? Having fun?" Shane rolls his eyes, but he smiles too.

"Yeah, it's good." Shane rubs his bottom lip, debating briefly with himself, and then decides _fuck it_. "Apparently Tinder is the worst dating app in existence, but she found this other one and..." Ryan listens while Shane talks, laughing or grimacing at the appropriate moments. Shane even admits that they had a fight about _George_ (he keeps that it wasn't really about George to himself) and Ryan nods along sympathetically. They don't usually have these kinds of deep conversations, letting their emotions bleed over to each other when necessary through other topics, but Ryan is attentive and Shane only feels vulnerable for a big city minute.

"So it's just her...?" Ryan asks once Shane has regaled him with their entire polyam story. Shane wags his head back and forth: _sort of_.

"I'm not interested, really," he explains. "Only if it's, you know. Serious. Someone that..." He swallows, back to feeling vulnerable, not now because they're both men and they're not supposed to talk baldly about feelings, but because it's _Ryan_ , and this means more than Ryan knows. "Someone that we both could love." Ryan nods thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I mean, that tracks," he says. "I mean, that seems like you, you know?" He laughs and teases lightly, "Party Boy Madej is no more." Shane laughs too.

"Party Boy Madej never was, Bergara, and you know it." Ryan grins, but then narrows his eyes and points.

"I bet he was, and I'm gonna find the evidence," he threatens jokingly. Shane shudders theatrically, and Ryan can't keep up his serious look. That familiar wheeze makes its first appearance in more than a week and Shane soaks it up like Obi in a sunbeam.

"I hope-" Ryan says then, suddenly earnest again, making Shane catch his breath. "I hope you guys find someone. If, uh. If that's what you want, I mean."

"Thanks, man," Shane says. "That means a lot." 

He quietly puts aside how much he can't imagine that someone being anyone but Ryan. There's no sense in hurting his own feelings now, just after recovering. They can't have Ryan, not romantically, and Shane can manage to live with that as long as he gets to keep Ryan like this.

Sometimes that's just how things are.


	3. Expecting Perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated E.
> 
> Porn begins at "Tell me to stop if I hurt your feelings" and ends at 'Obviously, they have to change clothes again.'
> 
> A lot happens in this chapter and I planned for next to none of it, so buckle up lmao.

The months continue to pass. Shane takes Ryan out half a dozen times for Halloween season, sometimes with others and sometimes just the two of them. Most of the time Shane makes it his treat and thus the only reason the haunted houses and hay rides and buzzed pumpkin patch crawls can't be called dates is that sticky little technicality that they're just not dating, because Shane is a masochist he guesses.

In December, before they head off to Chicago to see Shane's family, Sara and Shane have Ryan over for "friendsmas/friendukkah". It's one of the most bittersweet experiences of Shane's entire life, just _this close_ to what he wants and can't have but at the same time something he wouldn't trade for the world. The three of them fill up on so many different kinds of potato dishes that Shane thinks he becomes eighty percent starch. Ryan wears fucking onesie pajamas, emerald green with white snowflakes, and Sara wraps tinsel around him, and he's warm next to Shane all evening with melted marshmallow across his top lip from the hot chocolate.

In February, Sara meets a girl. Her name is Leigh and she's the first person Sara has brought home to Shane. She's beautiful and thoughtful and funny, with long legs and a killer way with words. Sara is smitten with her and when Leigh and Shane meet and agree to give it a try, Sara gushes about Leigh so much to all their friends that they end up pretty much out as polyam in a matter of days. They invite Leigh into their usual Them dates, the spa nights and the day trips and the museums. She takes them to poetry slams and garage concerts. Shane gets ribbed a little by the guys at work for having two girlfriends, but he doesn't mind. He's having a good time. Ryan congratulates them and Shane thanks him, and means it. Leigh is nice and pretty and she makes Sara happy. For Valentine's Day, Shane makes a reservation for three.

They get weird looks at the restaurant, but Leigh and Sara are caught up enough in each other that they don't notice at all, and Shane is caught up enough in them that it's easy to put everything else out of mind. They flirt and make each other laugh and steal bites from each other's plates and feed each other cheesecake, and they all crowd into the back of the same Lyft with Sara in the middle, giggling and squirming and flushed. Sara is slight enough and Shane's arm is long enough that he can get it over both of their shoulders if they squeeze in against him and each other, which they do. Leigh's long bleached-blonde hair falls down in smooth waves over Sara's collar bones, the shining chemically-straightened strands of it the perfect slide for Shane's eyes to follow down into Sara's dress. Leigh is whispering something in Sara's ear and the way Sara's hand curls on Shane's thigh makes him _very_ curious about what it is.

"I'll make us some coffee," Shane says once they get inside the house, reluctantly drawing away from Sara and Leigh to do just that, because his mama raised him right. He reminds himself to be a gentleman as he takes down three mugs and puts the machine on. He waits there for it to finish percolating, listening contently to the muffled sounds of Sara and Leigh continuing to flirt with each other in the other room. He already knows how Leigh takes her coffee, and that gives him a nice warm feeling. He hums happily to himself as he mixes in cream and sugar, and fails to notice the sudden silence from the other room. He gathers up the three mugs carefully, balancing one perilously on his forearm, and rounds the corner, unsuspecting.

And there is Leigh, standing in front of their TV before Sara, in typical Valentine's Day lingerie. Shane gasps out loud. It's a small miracle that he doesn't drop the coffees. Leigh is wearing a- a bustier, Shane thinks it's called. It's almost completely see-through, with criss-crossy red straps and lace roses. The color is so bright against her dark skin it almost looks painted on.

"Hello," Shane says, nonsensically, and Leigh and Sara both laugh at him - although, Shane would like to point out, Sara is completely breathless. Hurriedly, Shane sets down the coffees on the nearest flat surface and goes over to his girls. Leigh pushes his shoulder lightly and he collapses onto the couch next to Sara without so much as a token resistance.

Shane ends up with both of them in his lap, one over each skinny thigh, the three of them pressing kisses all over each other. Shane rests one hand on Leigh's lower back, the contrast of her smooth skin to the rough lace against his palm making him feel sensitized. He slides the other hand up the front of Sara's dress to play with her bare breast, the soft familiar handful of her simultaneously grounding him and working him up further. Leigh's hair tickles at his throat and her lip gloss is slippery slick and bubblegum flavored. Things are going great, are going wonderfully, are perfect - until Shane's shirt comes off.

He's wearing two layers, a sweater over a button-up, so it takes a little doing, but Leigh tugs at one side and Sara tugs at the other, and Shane unbuttons the top few buttons so that the thing can fit over his noggin. He lifts his arms and lets the two of them undress him, leaves his arms thrown across the back of the couch to make sure they have plenty of room to crowd into him. They take advantage of that immediately, Sara latching onto his neck as Leigh begins to kiss wetly down his chest, and he lets his head thunk back with a soft groan. But then Leigh stops and draws back.

"Oh," she says. "I thought..." Shane blinks dazedly and lifts his head to attempt to figure out what it is that she thought, and Sara stops sucking underneath his ear to look too. Leigh is looking at Shane's mark with an unreadable expression. Confused, Shane glances down at it, tucking his chin into his chest and twisting his body to try to see it as well as he can without a mirror. It's still ghost-shaped, still green, but now with splotches of red-brown like dried blood.

"I didn't realize you had met," Leigh finally finishes, and the words are clearly less than what she means. She reaches forward like she's going to touch it but then drops her hand away quickly, looking embarrassed. She gets up and turns around, sitting full on Shane's lap instead of straddling his leg. She pulls her long hair over her shoulder to bare her back to him and Sara and leans forward to present herself like that. The hair thing wasn't fully necessary, more for the titillation of showing as much of herself as possible than for practicality's sake. Her mark is just above the curve of her ass, a little patch of lighter brown skin that looks a little bit like the kind of bunny you might see when picking out shapes in the clouds.

" _Aw_ ," Shane says without thinking first. "It's so cute!" Leigh laughs nervously and gives him a sweet, soft look over her shoulder that he can't parse. They stay on the couch making out and petting each other, peeling off clothes until they're all in their underwear and stopping there. Shane ends up absolutely covered in hickeys and sticky lip gloss and the same goes for Sara, the rosy red of the love bites and the shimmery smears of gloss catching the living room light and making her look like a masterpiece. Leigh soaks through her silky panties and wets Shane's knee and goes home with his skin underneath her nails.

She starts to draw away from them after that, slow but steady, and by mid March Shane and Sara have had their first breakup as a couple. Leigh had told them softly that she thought they wanted something different than her, and Shane had been silently frustrated because he knew it had to be about his mark, knew that Leigh must not fully believe that he isn't and won't ever be pursuing his supposed mate, but he doesn't argue and lets her go. Sara cries and Shane feels numb and at-fault. Sara decides to take a break from dating to recover, and Shane feels guilty for that too. He tries not to hate his mark, because to him it's just a part of his body like any other and that's the opposite of a healthy coping mechanism. He suffers stoically through trite condolences from their work friends.

Ryan comes over and treats them to ice cream and wine and that's what finally makes Shane cry too, with Sara pressed in close on one side and Ryan on the other, a tub of Cherry Garcia in his lap and Jurassic Park on the TV with the sound down low. Ryan and Sara are both steady silent presences at his sides, just being there for him while he quietly lets it out. It almost feels worse that way; the undercurrent of knowledge that if Ryan had been in Leigh's place he would have done the same thing; the hopeless feeling that maybe _anyone_ would; the creeping, treacherous, irrational fear that maybe one day even Sara will change her mind about him because of this thing that he can't control.

In his doubt spiral Shane even gets angry with Ryan. If they are connected somehow and it is Shane's feelings for Ryan making his mark change colors and fuck up his relationships, how _dare_ Ryan be so loveable. But of course Ryan can't control how Shane feels about him any more than Shane can control what his mark looks like so he learns a few breathing exercises and makes himself let it go.

Shane calls his mom and asks her without context what she would have done if Dad's mark had ever changed from the light brown Shane knows both of theirs have been for all their lives. He knows she can hear the hurt in his voice over the line. She calls him 'baby' all soft like she did when he was little and he cries again, and it's not even about Leigh anymore, or Sara, or Ryan. It's just about Shane.

But Sara doesn't leave him, and she doesn't blame him, and she's still okay with The Ryan Thing. And Ryan is always there, for both of them, as a friend. As their best friend. _The_ best friend, Shane thinks soppily, that anyone could ever ask for. And so the heartbreak heals over and fades into a scar of the kind that everyone ends up with at least once by virtue of being alive.

Shane goes to Chicago again for Easter, Sara staying behind this time to spend Passover with her family. Shane's mom hugs him extra, extra tight. Shane still hasn't told her exactly what happened, but she's his mom and he can't help but think she just _knows_. Just before Sunday dinner, alone in his childhood bedroom - the safest place on earth - Shane lifts his arm to look at his mark just to prove that he can again. It's completely burgundy now, a stain on his skin like old spilled wine. He stares at it, trying to decide if he thinks that means anything, if it would matter if it did. He doesn't, he finally concludes with relief, and it wouldn't. He puts his shirt back on and goes downstairs with a weight off his shoulders.

In May they start rolling out the True Crime season. Shane is glad to get back into the jovial faux-animosity thing with Ryan in the Post Mortems. He finally feels normal again. But then Ryan gets cagey with him for no discernible reason, looking drawn and stressed all the time. He keeps opening his mouth to tell Shane something and then snapping it shut, looking both helpless and guilty. Shane retroactively applauds Ryan's patience with him back when they'd had that brief fight, because he can hardly stand this for even a _day_ before he has to confront Ryan about it.

"So," Shane says on set after filming one day, and it must be obvious in his tone what it's about because Ryan freezes like a rabbit that just spotted a hawk. "What are you not telling me that you so clearly want to be telling me?" Ryan shoots him a deeply guilty look and seems to shrink into himself.

"It's about my soulmate," he admits.

"Oh?" Shane prompts. He's surprised on two fronts. One, that the subject is back to not being a sore one for him already, unlike Ryan was expecting and honestly unlike Shane would have expected too. And two, that Ryan has been wanting to share something so personal with him so badly that it's been this obvious, holding out only in consideration of Shane's own feelings. It kind of makes him feel bubbly inside, like champagne, which he puts aside with difficulty, hoping it doesn't show on his face.

"Yeah, it's-" Ryan's voice breaks and Shane's bubbles all pop in concern. He leans in to Ryan's space, instinctively offering physical comfort. "Fuck, dude, it's turning brown?" His voice pitches up sharply with anxiety, as thready as it ever gets in any demon house, and then suddenly he's talking a mile a minute. "Like dark brown, I mean, not back to inert or whatever. I read that they're supposed to turn black when your soulmate dies, oh fuck, Shane, what if they're sick? What if they're dying and my mark is fucking dying with them? Fuck, it was green before, dude, how could I not notice if one of my friends was sick? I can't- fuck, I can't- There isn't anybody I know that I could handle losing like that, Shane, oh fuck."

Shane has absolutely no fucking clue what to do. He can feel that his eyes have gone wide and panicked, his face stuck in a flat expression like a statue. He wraps an arm around Ryan's tense shoulders and rubs his back, up and down over his soft t-shirt until Ryan's breathing syncs up to his steady movements and he stops shaking.

"Okay," Shane says. "Okay, I don't personally think that's what's happening, bud, but if you want backup to go around and ask all your friends about their health you know I will do that for you." Ryan laughs wetly.

"Jerk," he mutters, but he sighs and seems to feel better for having gotten all that out. He rubs his face and then leans back, thoughtlessly trapping Shane's hand between him and his chair. His shoulders are warm and strong pressed firm against Shane's palm. There was a time when this kind of easy intimacy would have been beyond them, but it almost seems like that was an entirely different life being lived by different people. Just like Shane can't remember a time when he didn't have a crush on Ryan, he now can't remember not being able to touch him whenever he wants to. "What do you think I should do, really?" Ryan asks, making eye contact with Shane without discomfort even as close as they are.

"You know I don't believe in soulmates," Shane reminds him with a shrug. "I think you should do whatever you think is the right thing for you, man."

"You know, I thought that's what you'd say," Ryan tells him with a wry grin. "And it turns out it's just as unhelpful as I figured it would be."

Ryan does start asking all of his friends about their health, and about their marks. Most of them don't tell him, which is their prerogative and Ryan is too good of a guy to hold it against them, but Shane can tell that not knowing is driving him crazy. Some people are made uncomfortable by the questioning, so Ryan bites his tongue and stops asking, just sweating over the issue in silence.

Well, mostly.

"It's all the way brown now, dude," he tells Shane. They're having tacos at what is now their taco place for having emotion-adjacent conversations. "It's so fucking dark, man." Shane nods sympathetically. His mark is also all the way brown, has been for more than a month now, and he almost wants to tell Ryan that and let Ryan jump to whatever conclusions he wants just to make him feel better. But he doesn't because that's an easy, shallow fix. Shane doesn't want to be settled for, to be a rebound from a lifelong romantic goal. And besides that, Shane wants Ryan to be able to fall in love - to really, genuinely fall in love. Falling in love with Sara was a life-changing experience for Shane, not just because of the amazing relationship that came out of it, but because of the falling itself. It was beautiful. And falling in love with Ryan, too, has been formative in its own way and thrilling, even despite the shitty parts. Shane wants Ryan to have that, not some kind of one-plus-one-is-one fate-driven equation which has always seemed ironically soulless to Shane.

"I don't think-" Ryan starts again. It's a half familiar sight now, Ryan across from Shane glaring into his empty taco basket. "I think I." He has to stop and clear his throat. Shane reaches across the table to grip his elbow in support. "I think I'm gonna have to accept that I'm not gonna... not gonna be with them." He sighs wetly, his lower lip wobbling a little. "And," he adds once his voice is steady again. "I don't know if... I mean, maybe it's shitty of me, but, like. I don't know if I would want to be with them and fall in love with them anyway, if they're gonna be- gone. So soon."

"Yeah, man," Shane soothes. "I understand."

Ryan starts spending even more time at Shane's and Sara's, quietly grieving the loss of someone he may or may not even know. Shane gets it as much as he can. Ryan even sleeps over somewhat regularly. With Shane's and Sara's help, he comes out of his depressed fugue in fits and starts. His moods are mountains and valleys for a while. When he's feeling good their daily life becomes just like that Christmas they spent together, and his bad days seem to start to dry up. He keeps coming over though, keeps staying the night sometimes. The three of them exist around each other constantly. Ryan does his at-home workout in their living room on the weekend while Sara dances to the radio making breakfast in the kitchen and Shane reads parody news articles on his phone. Obi gets used to Ryan being around all the time and starts cuddling him, and Ryan lets him despite his allergies. It even becomes normal and comfortable for Shane and Sara to do PDA stuff with Ryan in their space; maybe a slow kiss on the mouth while he's standing at Shane's shoulder chopping vegetables under close supervision; maybe Sara in Shane's lap and her feet in Ryan's while they watch a movie; maybe Shane even tucks his hand beneath the inside of Sara's thigh, ostensibly to warm his chilly fingers but really just to touch her, while she happens to have her shoulders tucked under Ryan's arm.

One night at the very end of June, people already setting off sporadic illegal fireworks, Shane and Sara are lying in bed together under a light sheet looking into each other's eyes and listening to Ryan toss and turn out on their couch. Sara reaches up to pet down the long bridge of Shane's nose with one finger, and he gives her a slow blink of feline-esque affection.

"Would it break your heart if he slept in here with us?" she whispers into the atmospheric darkness of their bedroom, and for once Shane wants it enough that he doesn't pick it apart before he decides to have it. He shakes his head against the pillows and Sara smiles like an early sunrise, kisses him right between the eyes, and then bounds out of bed to go get Ryan. He seems hesitant as she leads him in by the hand, but only a little, and he lets her put him where she wants him, right in the center of their bed with them. Sara tucks herself up close behind Ryan with her arms around his waist, and Shane tucks his head underneath Ryan's chin.

"Kinda weird to have the littlest person be the biggest spoon," Ryan comments.

In unison, Shane and Sara mumble, "Shut up, Ryan," and Ryan quietly laughs himself to sleep in their arms.

In the morning it's raining for the first time in fuck knows how long. It's Ryan's alarm, out in the living room, that wakes them up. They sigh and stretch and enjoy the ambiance, and then Sara suggests that all three of them call out sick and Ryan agrees. Shane brings some berries from the kitchen back to bed for breakfast. Ryan decides he's too lazy to eat and insists on being fed, and Shane is the one to pop berries in Ryan's mouth when he holds it open like a bird. Sara keeps checking in with him with weighted looks, making sure Shane isn't torturing himself with this, but it's... it's really okay. Yeah, Shane still wants more - he won't ever get _over_ Ryan - but he's done falling now, and his feelings have gone back to that steady simmer, not so silly and not so little as that old crush was, but not something painful anymore either. Ryan is melted unsweet baker's chocolate set to stay warm on the burner next to the sustaining meal that is Sara.

After breakfast, Ryan gets up to do his workout routine in the living room and Shane and Sara take a shower together. They kiss, long and open-mouthed under the spray of warm water.

"Love you," Sara murmurs against Shane's wet lips. Their hands slide smoothly over each other's bodies. Sara hooks one leg around Shane's waist, holding on to his sturdy shoulders for balance in the slippery tub, and he fingers her slow and hard until she's shaking against him. She comes at her normal volume, forgetting to be self-conscious about Ryan still being here, and when she turns off the water and kneels down to take Shane into her mouth he does too.

Ryan is blushing brightly behind a half full glass of water when Shane and Sara come out of the bathroom wrapped in their towels and still dripping, but he doesn't babble or try to distance himself, and he goes to take his turn in the shower without enforcing some kind of post-sex waiting period on himself.

It continues to rain into the afternoon. They rearrange themselves on the bed with Shane in the middle. Sara lays her head on his thigh, lying along the length of his leg, and Ryan pillows his head on his own arms on Shane's other side. Shane reads to them and they launch a unified attack on his character voices, getting more and more into their roast until they both end up right in his face and he's laughing too much to continue. There's a strange energy between them then, because if it had been just Shane and Sara she would have pulled the book out of his hands and pushed him into the pillows and ridden him, returning the favor of his voices by dirty talking him into oblivion, but with Ryan here that sexual tension hovers thick in the air around them because they'd rather leave it unresolved than kick Ryan out. But Ryan must feel it too because he jumps off the bed like there's a ghost in it.

"I'll make lunch," he volunteers, a little pitchy and just a hair too loud. "You guys-" He blushes brightly and looks up at the ceiling. "-feel free to, uh, stay here and _relax_."

"Tell me to stop if I hurt your feelings," Sara directs as soon as Ryan has disappeared past their doorway, which is more than a little ominous and not relaxing at all. But she just slides into Shane's lap and all but growls, "God, imagine what it would be like to fuck him." Shane's breath catches sharply in his chest and his hands close around her hips tight enough to bruise. She whines and grinds down against him through the clean pajamas they'd put on while Ryan was showering. "He'd be so fucking pretty with us taking him apart. Imagine-" She cuts herself off with a moan and scrambles to get her pajama top unbuttoned. Shane 'helps' by slipping his hands down the back of her shorts. "Imagine how he'd feel inside you, babe. We could tag-team you. We could- _fuck_ , we could tie you up, maybe. Or we could tie him up. Tie me up."

"Yeah," Shane rasps, half agreeing and half begging for her to keep going, tell him more. She finally gets her top off and he immediately buries his face in her chest, mouthing sloppy and desperate at the soft skin between her breasts until she grabs him by the hair and tugs him over to one side so he can suck her properly. She's soaked through her pants now, and starting to soak through his too. They rub frantically against each other through the thin, slippery-wet fabric.

"You've seen his ass in those basketball shorts." Sara leans over Shane to talk right into his ear, keeping her voice low so that this part at least won't be overheard. "It's not hard," she grinds down with emphasis, for irony's sake, "to picture him bare, bent over our bed for us. Imagine that ass with your hand print on it. My lipstick. Imagine what he'd taste like if you ate him out, _Shane_." His name comes out as another moan, louder than the rest, and all he can do is hang onto her for dear life and nod. She's so right. She's so fucking right about everything. He pictures what she says to, his eyes squeezed shut so tight. He's sweating and panting, biting her more often than he means to because Ryan's name is on the tip of his tongue.

Shane feels Sara's fingers against him when she reaches down to press the wet seam of her shorts up into her clit. She cries out at the added friction, loud enough now that Ryan has to have heard even if he's all the way in the kitchen. She pushes him back from her chest, clinging onto his shoulder just as hard as he's still gripping her rocking hips, so that she can look into his eyes. Their faces are even with her sitting astride him like this. Her eyes are blown so wide and dark he feels lost in them.

"I wanna see you," she gasps, moving faster, getting closer. "I wanna watch you come thinking about him." Shane groans and his eyes fall shut again without his permission. Sara shakes his shoulder insistently until he opens them again.

"I am," he admits, though it's no secret. "I am- I'm thinking about him. Thinking about you with him."

" _Yeah_ ," Sara whines, jerking against him. She throws her head back as she comes. When she's still shuddering in the aftershocks, she wraps her arms around Shane's shoulders, presses her forehead to his, and keeps rolling her hips for him. He does his best to give her what she wants, to not look away or let his eyes roll back or blink. He's gasping and whimpering open-mouthed and too loud, way too loud. Everything feels so good and so hot and so _much_ , and then he's there and they both clap a hand over his mouth because they know exactly whose name he'd shout if they didn't.

Shane collapses back onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut, and hits the back of his head on the headboard with a resounding _thunk_. Sara laughs at him so hard she snorts and he can't even pretend to be mad about it because he just came so hard that he can't feel his toes.

Obviously, they have to change their clothes again. Sara picks out a cute, flowy sundress. She neglects to put anything on underneath it because she's a daredevil and a vixen, and other such things. Shane throws on a t-shirt and a pair of Ryan's infamous basketball shorts that have somehow found their way onto their bedroom floor. When they finally make their way into the kitchen, Ryan is sitting at the table with a face so red it glows. There is a smorgasbord prepared before him of a dozen different kinds of cold sandwiches cut meticulously into bite-sized triangles and arranged in neat rows. But again Ryan doesn't crack any uncomfortable jokes and he hasn't left, and he doesn't shy away from Sara's touch when she hugs him in thanks for the food.

They're doing another something 'unconventional' it seems, though this time Shane isn't sure exactly what it is.

Just that he hopes it lasts.


	4. Love to Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated E.
> 
> Porn begins at "I hate you" and ends at "Why didn't you ever say anything".

Obviously it doesn't last.

Sure, for weeks Ryan is there when Sara and Shane try out new face masks or when they go to the botanical gardens or when the art museum has a visiting exhibit on ancient Chinese erotic poetry or when they play hooky to go to Disneyland. For weeks Ryan makes them watch movie musicals and brings them to a dozen vastly different food trucks they've never been to before and takes what feels like hundreds of pictures of them on his phone.

And then, after those weeks, Ryan has a little business trip. It's one of the increasingly rare businessy things that Shane isn't involved in. There's a loose NDA and everything. Ryan heads out of town on Thursday, grumbling and griping without heat about his imminent work weekend. Everything seems normal.

At five in the morning Saturday, Ryan calls Shane. Shane is pulled out of sleep by the buzz of his phone on the bedside table. He glares blearily at it but grabs it to check the caller, and when he sees that it's Ryan he answers. He answers with a short grunt and nothing else, but it is five in the morning on a Saturday after all so Shane doesn't care if Ryan was expecting more decorum.

"Uh," says Ryan over the line. His voice swings up in pitch sharply. "Nevermind." And then he hangs up. Shane is a little pissed off about being woken up for apparently no reason, but the call was short enough that it's a simple matter for him to go right back to sleep. He wakes up thinking it was a weirdly mundane dream until he sees the call log on his phone. But it doesn't really seem _that_ significant. Ryan does weird stuff all the time. Shane has all but forgotten about it by the time lunch rolls around that day.

So when Shane picks Ryan up from the airport late Sunday night and Ryan clumsily lets Shane know he wants to go to his own house without saying those words, Shane doesn't think to connect it to that weird seconds-long phone call. He just figures Ryan is tired, maybe homesick for his own space. No big deal, and he needn't have been worried about- about hurting Shane's and Sara's feelings or whatever it is that made him too nervous to just say 'hey, take me to my place, please'. Shane takes Ryan to Ryan's place, and he doesn't worry about it.

That is until Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Friday all pass without Ryan coming over to theirs. Shane feels Ryan watching him at work all week, staring for long minutes at the side of his face across the short distance between them, but every time he looks over Ryan makes like he's completely absorbed in his work. Shane pretends, badly, that he isn't picking up on that.

In the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, while Sara is playing with Obi and half-listening to Shane whine about how Ryan isn't paying enough attention to him, there comes a frantic knocking at their front door, and Shane knows it has to be Ryan. Sara must know it too because she doesn't so much as twitch, letting Shane be the one to scramble up from his dramatic sprawl on the couch and go to answer it. It is Ryan at the door, of course, but Shane barely has a second to take in his friend's haggard appearance - eyes buggy and round, hair sticking up like he's been tugging at it - before Ryan is talking.

"I have a confession," he says, and keeps going before Shane can spit out a nervous joke. "I have- my, uh, my mark is red, right? And- I mean, obviously it was brown because green and red together is brown, which is so fucking obvious, dude, I feel like an idiot, and you probably think I'm an idiot, but whatever. So, yeah, it's red. Which means- which- feelings, right? Like, real feelings. I have those. I have- for you. Uh, and Sara. You and Sara. But yours isn't red, right? And hers isn't? They're supposed to match. So I've been having, like, this _crisis_ -"

"Hey, bud," Shane tries, but Ryan is on a roll.

"Because you don't feel the same, so it can't be that, but I don't have feelings for anyone else so it can't- So then maybe you're right and there's no- it just means nothing. So my whole worldview has shifted, basically, and also I'm in love with you, which is a lot. And, um." Ryan finally pauses to take a breath while Shane gapes at him, the both of them standing in the open front door. Shane's heart races, blood rushing in his ears, as Ryan squares his shoulders and lifts his chin to look Shane right in the eyes. "I thought about it and I decided I don't- it doesn't matter. I want to be with you. And I'm sorry if this r-ruins our friendship, or puts strain between you and Sara, but I thought... I just didn't think it would be right to keep it from you." Ryan's bravery apparently runs out there and he drops his gaze so far down that all Shane can see is the cowlick at the crown of his head.

Shane watches in awe as his own hand reaches forward toward Ryan. He can't quite feel his fingers, but he can see them tremble before they brush against Ryan's jaw and lift his face back up. Ryan's eyes are still wide, his eyebrows pinched together with distress. His lips part with confusion, or maybe hope. Whatever the cause, Ryan's mouth looks as soft and inviting as it always does. It's surreal to think maybe Shane could be welcome there, even more fantastical to think there's a chance he could be more than a momentary visitor.

"Are-" He chokes, swallows down the lump in his throat, tries again. "Are you sure?" Ryan gulps too, and nods. His barely-there afternoon stubble prickles at Shane's fingertips. It's nothing special, a totally mundane sensation, but it feels unbearably intimate all the same. Like the brush of Sara's fingers against Shane's temples when she takes his glasses off, or his knuckles on her back when he zips up her dress. Their kiss is the same, when Shane lets his eyes flutter shut and dips his head to press his mouth against Ryan's at last. Soft, and quiet, and tender. Ryan breathes shakily against Shane's lips and lifts a hand to press warmly at the back of Shane's neck and pull him in closer. And then there's a distinctive noise from the kitchen that makes Ryan jump.

"Did-" He laughs. "Did she just literally pop a bottle?" Shane keeps his eyes closed and touches his forehead to Ryan's, unwilling to put even the slightest distance between them. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of Ryan, and sighs.

"I might have pined," he admits ruefully, and Ryan laughs again. Shane feels Ryan shake his head and opens his eyes to see Ryan's expression of awe.

"I had no idea," he murmurs, before lifting up to kiss Shane again. Shane is content to not have the last word, to not tease Ryan about being oblivious, if it means he can keep kissing him. Instead, he drags Ryan fully inside the house by his hips.

"Don't let Obi out!" Sara calls from the kitchen, and Ryan fumbles for the door behind him without pulling away from Shane even as Shane continues to tug him forward. Shane walks them further and further into the house until he can back himself up to the couch and collapse onto it, pulling Ryan down with him by the gentle grip of both hands around the back of his neck. Ryan giggles, boyish and giddy, against Shane's lips and Shane can't help but grin back, finally interrupting their kiss. Sara lands on the couch cushion next to Shane with a bounce not a second later. Shane looks over at her, in her pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, and knows that his face is as awestruck as Ryan's was from the way she smiles at him so softly.

"How- uh. I mean, what are, like-" Ryan stutters from where he's bent awkwardly over Shane, one arm holding himself up against the back of the couch at Shane's shoulder. He's looking nervously between Shane and Sara. Shane is too dazed still to parse what Ryan is asking, but Sara leans forward with another smile just for Ryan and presses her own sweet kiss to Ryan's slack lips.

"We pretty much opened our relationship in the first place so that we could have the option of dating you, if you ever wanted us," she says. Shane feels his face - the apples of his cheeks, and the tops of his ears, and the back of his neck - burn hot. He coughs to clear his throat.

"That's not _exactly_..." he protests weakly, but gives up when he sees Sara nodding conspiratorially to Ryan in the corner of his eye. Ryan laughs again then, bright and joyful, his round eyes wide and shining. It's as if Shane and Sara are a theme park made just for him. He alternates kisses between the two of them for what feels like eternity until Sara pulls him down onto the couch in between them and the three of them share the champagne that she poured, and - finally, after so long - Ryan comes to bed with them again. Shane falls asleep euphoric, floating on clouds into dreamland, with Sara hugged in tight between him and Ryan.

Ryan turns out to be the best datefriend Sara has ever had. She gushes to Shane about how well Ryan spoils her and how safe she feels with him and how thrilling it is to be the center of his attention and how beautiful his stupid muscles are. Ryan hides behind Shane, squirming with embarrassment because he's not used to such earnest praise, and Shane loosens him back up again by teasing and goading him. Ryan's room at bro-central becomes more of a storage unit than a living space. He stays over with Shane and Sara almost every night, the three of them lulling each other into sleep with deep kisses and slow touches.

It's when Sara is at a friend's drink-and-draw on a sunny weekend afternoon that those slow touches finally lead to something more.

Shane and Ryan are making out on the couch, morning cartoons long since having changed into daytime soaps on the TV, when Shane mumbles, "Do you wanna-"

"Oh, thank _fuck_ ," Ryan blurts, and jumps up off of Shane's lap like he's been burned. He tugs Shane up insistently by the hand and makes a beeline for the bedroom, tossing his shirt on the hall floor on the way. Shane laughs in surprise, but doesn't hesitate to follow. When Shane gets into the room Ryan pushes him down onto the bed so hard that Shane's whole long, lanky body bounces. "I've been wanting to since you and Sara in the shower-" he adds in a breathless rush. "Take your pants off."

Ryan plants himself on all fours over Shane and kisses him absolutely senseless while Shane struggles in vain to obey him, squirming around helplessly on the mattress trying to tug his pants down and off with one hand, the other clutching reflexively at Ryan's firm shoulder. He teases Shane with his tongue, licking into his mouth and then retreating when Shane tries to meet him, over and over again, until Shane whines. Finally, Ryan takes pity on him and sits up on his knees to look down at Shane. Ryan's mouth and chin are a little rosy from Shane's lips and stubble, and Shane can feel the cooling wetness on his own lips that he knows Ryan must be admiring.

Their frenetic pace slows to a sensuous crawl when Ryan begins to undress Shane. Shane can't remember ever taking this passive of a role during sex, but now he can't imagine why not. It feels heavenly to let Ryan carefully unwrap him, each new bared part of him warmed by Ryan's heated gaze and firm hands. It's like laying out in spring sunshine or sinking into a bath. Shane lifts his hips in silence for Ryan to pull down his pants and underwear, sighing and letting his eyes flutter shut when Ryan presses a long, incongruously chaste kiss against Shane's hip bone. Shane raises his arms above his head to allow Ryan to work his shirt up and off too. His stomach jumps and his breath hitches with every brush of Ryan's fingers against his belly, his ribs, up the underside of his arms... He's gifted another searing kiss before Ryan sits back again to survey his work, Shane now fully revealed to him. Suddenly, Ryan gasps sharply.

"You shithead!" he hisses.

"W-what?" Shane splutters, blinking his eyes open. He feels like marshmallowy hot chocolate inside his brain and is shivery all over with goosebumps from Ryan's touch, and he has no idea what is happening. Ryan points at Shane's armpit. Blinking in confusion, Shane looks. It takes him a minute, what with the marshmallows and all, to realize anything of note. It's just his soulmark right where it's always been, red now-

"Oh!" Shane says. "It's red now."

"No sh- You really _just_ noticed that?" Ryan demands. "Oh my god, you're the worst, I've been freaking out this whole time and it's been you all along." Shane continues to blink up at Ryan - Ryan with a faux halo around his head from the lamplight behind him, Ryan who Shane is undeniably in love with, Ryan who Shane can't remember his life without anymore, Ryan who gestures pointedly at his own red mark low in the vee of his hips - and thinks about it, as much as he is able when his head is all stuffed cotton-full with sex and feelings. It would be nice, wouldn't it? It would be so nice, and poetic, and romantic, for Ryan to be Shane's soulmate. For them to somehow have been destined to end up here. But on the other hand, isn't it even more special for them to have made it here all on their own? Eventually, Shane just shrugs against the pillow under his shoulders.

"Maybe," he allows, and then adds in the name of honesty, "Maybe not." Ryan lets out a muffled scream through a tooth-clenched grin. He slams his palms down on the pillow on either side of Shane's head, leaning in so close that their noses just barely brush.

"I hate you," he growls. "Not joking." But when Shane lifts his head to kiss him again he's smiling. Shane moves his arms from their submissive position to wrap around Ryan's waist. He has a split second of anxiety clench in his gut that maybe Ryan will tell him to stay, to keep his mark on display, that maybe this has suddenly changed into something else, that it'll be all about that now- But Ryan only hums happily into the kiss and lays himself down fully, pressing Shane down into the mattress with his weight. They hold each other and kiss and move against each other, building up the warmth and humidity between them, the tension. The silky smooth friction of Ryan's basketball shorts against Shane's naked thighs and cock has him shuddering with every breath, his hands spasming against Ryan's back.

"You-" Shane gasps out, well past any attempt to be suave. "Pants- too." Ryan laughs breathily. He lifts up onto his knees again, this time keeping his head tucked in close to Shane so that he can latch his teeth onto Shane's neck. Ryan, much more dexterous than Shane, manages to get his shorts off and kicked over the edge of the bed onto the floor without once releasing Shane from his mouth's hold. The mark he inevitably leaves will be dark and lasting. When Ryan lowers his body back on top of him, Shane immediately reaches down to get a double handful of his ass. Ryan moans softly, presses back into Shane's hands, moves to mark up a new spot lower on Shane's throat. When their cocks finally slide against each other, already just wet enough to make it easy, Shane's back arches off of the mattress.

"Yeah," Ryan rasps, and Shane should have known Ryan would be a talker, should have braced himself for it- "Take what you want, baby. That's so good." Shane is helpless not to obey, tightening his grip on Ryan's ass and beginning to thrust in earnest. Ryan groans out loud now, panting wetly against the hickeys he's made, and mumbles out more and more praise. He plants his knees between Shane's legs, wraps his arms tight around Shane's waist, and meets him thrust for thrust. They slip and slide all over each other with sweat and precome until they shake with sensation and with effort. Shane lifts a leg up around Ryan's hip so that Ryan can press in even harder against him, the friction between them rolling and firm and fucking perfect.

" _Fuck_ , Shane," Ryan gasps against Shane's collarbone in between bites. All Shane can do is whimper back at him, his head completely devoid of words. His orgasm is somehow both gradual and sudden, bubbling through him like a pot overflowing. Stars burst behind his eyelids and he feels noise come out of his throat but can hear if it was words. Ryan babbles his approval as he follows Shane over the edge, leaving Shane's belly covered in the mix of both of their come. They just breathe and shiver, still tangled up in each other, as their sweat evaporates. Finally, Ryan rolls to the side and Shane dredges up enough energy to pull a tissue from the box on Sara's bedside table and do a cursory clean up. Ryan tugs the covers out from underneath them and they cuddle inside, taking on a chill now that their sex-heat has dissipated. Evening has come and it's dusk-dark in the room as they quietly breathe each other's breath.

"Why didn't you ever say anything," Ryan murmurs eventually, his voice soft and delicate. Shane breathes in slow through his nose, making the effort not to tense up or get defensive.

"I," he starts. Pauses. Tries again. "I wanted you to love me because of me, not because of fate. And if you didn't love me, I didn't want to force you to try. And if you loved someone else, I wanted you to be happy about it. And I still don't necessarily believe in-"

"I don't necessarily believe in you." Ryan breaks the serious, emotional atmosphere with comfortable needling and Shane sighs in relief. He can tell easily from the glow of Ryan's eyes in the lengthening shadow that Ryan isn't upset. This... It's quintessential skeptic/believer shit, isn't it? It's _them_ , summarized.

"I mean, sure, they're similar," Shane continues facetiously, gladly, "but we can't say they're definitively the same shape-"

"You're a menace to society," Ryan interrupts again. Shane chokes on a wheeze, but perseveres.

"-and they didn't change color in unison, so-" And then at last, Ryan sighs, "Shut up, Shane," and Shane subsides with a smile, pulling Ryan in even closer to rest their heads against each other. They can fall like that into a warm, post-coital doze.

Shane is alerted to Sara's return by the creaky floorboard in the threshold of the bedroom door and the soft shutter click of her phone camera. He attempts an incoherent greeting but she shushes him. He listens to the comforting susurrus of her changing clothes in the dark, recognizes that Ryan has come to as well when he breathes deep and stretches slow against Shane's side.

"I want a play-by-play in the morning, boys," Sara scolds playfully as she climbs into the bed with them. She keeps her voice low, melds seamlessly into the intimate mood. Shane and Ryan both mumble sleepily and fold her into their cuddle.

In the morning they give Sara the play-by-play as requested, not bothering to get out of bed or put on clothes first because they know exactly where it will lead. Shane watches avidly as Ryan kisses Sara breathless, as he caresses her modest breasts, as he diligently eats her out. They don't all three fit into the shower together but Sara lathers herself up with shaving cream and shaves her legs on the closed toilet, heckling Shane and Ryan as they flirt and throw suds at each other.

Ryan had spent just as little time on Sara's mark as he had on Shane's, if not less. It's still just a random light brown shape like a regular birthmark, and as far as Shane is concerned equally important. If it ever turns yellow - or green or red - obviously they'll be able to handle it. And if it never does, they - the three of them - still have everything they need.

**Author's Note:**

> can y'all believe this was supposed to be pure fluff and humor? shits went right of the fucking rails huh


End file.
